We didn't communicate. I didn't text him and he didn't text me. I didn't write, and it wasn't because I was huffy or just wanted him to admit his flaws. But I didn't know what I would write.
What was suitable to write after he'd asked me to stay away because I'd argued about something that had affected his consciousness and self-esteem? No, I was out of options too.
Friday night I made the cake- and food preparations for Saturday. For a lot of people it would probably make more sense to invite your friends out, but we were five in total and those would fit in my tiny apartment.
Alexander wrote happy birthday.
Not that I had the time to answer because the cake was done at that moment and no one wants burned birthday cake. And then I didn't get the chance to answer.
Trisha came and helped me get everything ready before the remaining guests arrived.
They left just before five.
I picked up my phone from the kitchen counter and unlocked it.
It opened to the mail from Alexander.
I hit respond.
The cake had to be taken out of the oven, and my guests arrived so I apologize for my late answer. Thank you. I had a nice day, if you're interested.
I stared at the screen and updated my mail every ten seconds. No answer ticked into my inbox. Maybe it was a bit too passive aggressive?
Crap.
I'd wasted that one chance.
My day had ben okay, overall. Dad had called when I texted him I was up. I'd spoken to grandma. And then I'd spoken to grandma and grandad, mom's parents, and the remaining family had texted, or mailed me, happy birthday.
I'd received Dad's gift Friday.
I opened it Saturday morning while we talked.
It was a shoe rack. Something I'd wanted, now Alexander had dumped four pairs of shoes on my doorstep, for the times I'd been his date.
Trisha and my friends gave me some clothes, a book and cards.
I moved the dishes from the living room into the kitchen, stacked the dishwasher, started it, and washed the few things that couldn't fit in the dishwasher.
Still no answer.
I really wanted to hear from him.
I wanted him to... to text me back.
Yes, I'd probably hit where it hurt the most, but that didn't mean I didn't want to see him again.
My kitchen was cleaned. The living room was cleaned. Everything looked like it always did. And when my dishwasher was finished, I could fill it with the last remaining things and I'd be done.
I twirled my phone around between my fingers without really doing anything.
Someone knocked on my door.
If it was Alexander...
Yeah, I'd probably tell him something for not using the door bell and then wait, but maybe that wouldn't have to be tonight?
If it was him, that is.
I put my phone in my back pocket and went to see who was outside.
I looked out the peephole.
Jazz?
I removed the chain and unlocked the door.
Jazz's light brown eyes were directed at my face and he smiled a professional smile.
"Mr. Greene would like to hear if you would like to have dinner with him?"
He would?
"Uhm, where?" I asked.
"A restaurant, miss," he said.
I looked at my outfit. I smelled like chocolate cake. "Can I change first?"
"Of course," he said.
I hesitated. I could tell Jazz though, right? "Is it possible, that if you come by again you'll press the doorbell downstairs?"
Jazz smiled an honest smile. "Mr. Greene can be persuasive."
"Probably," I said. "Ten minutes, then I'm ready."
I shut the door, put the chain on and went to my bedroom.
I was still not sleeping with him.
I changed from one pair of jeans to another, clean pair, put on a lace blouse, it was a deep purple with a black top underneath. Extra cardigan? I grabbed a cardigan, it wasn't too much compared to the shirt, just in case.
I put my hair in a soft, yet messy bun, and left the bedroom.
Shoes?
I put on my booties and tied the laces.
Mobile, purse and keys were in my shoulder bag.
Was I ready to meet Alexander again?
My birthday was not that special. I liked the attention, and only because it was my birthday, but that didn't mean I was above everyone else.
I unlocked the door, grabbed my winter jacket and turned off the lights. I shut the door and took the elevator down with Jazz.
The evening air was chilly against my face. Maybe I should've brought a scarf too?
Jazz led me to the car, opened the door and led me get in.
I slipped into the back seat, and the door was shut.
I buckled up, and in some weirdly anticlimactic cliché movie, I didn't look at Alexander before then.
"Happy birthday," he said softly.
I smiled. "Thank you."
He turned so we were more face to face then side to side. "I promised I'd invite you out for dinner on your birthday. Just the two of us."
A, somehow, extremely relieved smile spread across my face.
He looked at Jazz who pulled into traffic. "I don't understand what we are." He said and looked at me. "It wasn't my intention to be so pissed Saturday, but you started probing into something I can't control."
I looked at him, I was half turned toward him too. And then, out of nowhere, the butterflies hit me. They were flapping their ginormous wings in my belly. Oh. That was not something I was used to. I shook my head slightly.
"We're friends," I said.
Alexander's eyebrows did the opposite of what they usually did, nothing. "None of my friends, except you, reach me like you do," he said.
"I'm not putting up with you bossing me around," I said simply.
He rubbed his chin in his hand before folding his hands in his lap.
We sat in silence for a while before Jazz stopped and got out of the car.
Alexander got out and Jazz opened my door before I had the chance to do so. I got out of the car, Jazz shut the door, said something to Alexander, before getting back behind the wheel and drove away from the curb.
I looked at Alexander who held his hand out towards me.
It was an open invitation.
I hesitated in several long seconds before I put my hand in his.
He gently squeezed my hand and led me to a restaurant with a lot of guests and pristine white table clothes.
With an authoritative voice he told the waiter that he'd reserved a table for two. We were led to a table in the corner of the restaurant.
I sat down and pulled my own chair closer to the table.
Alexander sat down opposite me. "I have to admit, it's frustratingly difficult to come up with something to give you," he said.
"Give me?" I asked. We didn't know enough about personal preferences to give each other presents. Did we?
"Birthday present," he said.
"It's not a requirement," I said. "I guess this is my present if you insist on paying."
"I invite, I pay," I said.
I nodded slowly. "Okay."
He smiled. "I had my mother help me."
"Your mother?" I asked in surprise.
He put a box on the table between us.
"Dare I open this box?" I asked. It was a box and it wasn't jewelry. Jewelry would make me see this in a different light than us just being friends.
He smiled. "Yes."
"It's not too expensive, is it?"
He shook his head. "But before you complain too much, it is a long-lasting present."
Now I was curious.
I took the semi lightweight box and put it before me. I loosened the ribbon and opened the lid.
My gaze went to Alexander's face, he just waited for my reaction. Or so it seemed.
I looked into the box, moved the thin paper and put up a little bag. It looked like my shoulder bag, just this one was brand new. Compared to the one I had, this wasn't entirely black. It was black, the leather was black, everything else was in some metal looking material.
"The strap is changeable," Alexander said.
I looked at the bag and then at him. "Thank you," I said. I sounded surprised. Happy but surprised.
His smile was almost apologetic.
I put the box on the floor and looked at the bag. There were two straps. A strap in black leather with details in metal. And then a strap consisting of tiny metal rings.
The waitress came over.
Alexander looked briefly at her before looking at me. "I chose the chef's menu for both of us."
"Okay," I said.
His shoulders visibly relaxed and he looked back at the waitress.
"What would you like to drink?" she asked.
"Coke," I said. "Diet coke."
Alexander looked at me briefly before putting in his order. Sparkling water with lemon.
The waitress left.
"Does it bother you I don't drink?" I asked.
"'Bother' is a strong word," he said looking up from the red wine glass. "Why don't you drink?"
"Principle," I said.
He smiled. "Okay," he said. "Principle."
I had my bag in my lap. "Where did you hide it?" I asked and held it up for him to see it, and also let him know what I was referring to.
"Why?" he asked.
"Could you maybe hide it the same place?"
"Of course," he said.
I handed him the bag and he put it away.
"What did you tell your mother?"
"About you?"
I nodded.
"That you're my friend," he said. "And that I'd brought you along as my date, but that we were only friends."
That was what I'd hoped. And that even though the feeling in my stomach was weird.
"Did you have a nice week?" He asked.
"It's been okay," I said.
Alexander walked me all the way to my front door, after Jazz had driven us there. It was weird, we had a million things we desperately need to tell one another. We hadn't seen each other in a week, and we did this? Most was work related, or a bit study related for me, but the talking existed, it was there and it wasn't forced or awkward.
We hadn't had dessert on the restaurant because I had cake.
And then I'd offered Alexander a slice and he'd accepted.
We had eaten our cake. The plates and forks were on the coffee table.
I leaned into him.
It wasn't because we had kissed. Because we hadn't.
But I had my head leaned against his shoulder, and he'd put his arm around me.
He was explaining to me why he'd chosen Trisha's advertisement. It felt like he wanted to make sure I knew it wasn't because of me.
"We had more than enough work to do, no need to apologize," I said quietly.
Alexander was quiet for a long time. "Are you going home for Christmas?"
"Yes," I said and nodded.
"When are you going home?" He asked.
"Mid-December," I said. "It's not in a long time."
"How about Thanksgiving?"
"It's an American celebration, not a Danish one," I reminded him.
He pulled me closer. "Do you want to celebrate it with me?"
"Aren't you celebrating it with your family?" I asked.
"My brothers will be home for Christmas, that means they won't be home for Thanksgiving."
"Who else would it be, but us?" I asked and looked at him.
"My parents," he said.
"Just them?"
He nodded and looked down at me.
"Can I say no?" I asked.
He could hide many things, but he wasn't immune to his feelings. "Why?" He asked. There was the tiniest inkling of hurt in his eyes.
"Because I like you," I said. I admitted. It wasn't the plan that I would tell him that.
"What does that explain?" he asked.
I wouldn't have guessed we'd reach this point. "I don't want to come as your friend, but I don't think we can be more than friends now, because you're still so bossy."
His eyebrows dived down, putting his eyes in shadow.
I leaned into him again.
"Okay," he almost snapped.
I smiled.
"What are you doing that day?" he asked.
"Candace and Elliott invited me," I said.
He tightened his arm around me.
"I'm turning it down."
"Why?" he asked.
"It's my first year I'm over here," I said. "First year where I can be alone on that day. And how strange it may sound, I'm looking forward to it."
"Isn't that lonely?" he asked.
"Not to have any family over here?" I asked and looked at him.
"Yes."
"No," I said. "I've got friends."
"Friends aren't always the same," he reminded me.
"No," I said. "I've always dreamt of living in New York. Probably more temporarily than forever, but after Mom died it just feels like a way out of the life I lived. Many say I've changed after she passed." I said quietly and looked at my hands. I leaned into Alexander again.
"You don't want to talk about your Mom," he stated.
I shook my head.
Alexander didn't comment on it. And I didn't have anything I felt compelled to ask him in that moment.